Pirate of the Prophecy

by Jack Campbell

  A figure appeared on the deck at the end of the bowsprit, racing to intercept Jules, cutlass raised. Knowing that she couldn’t fight well while balanced on the bowsprit, Jules kept running, jumping forward and down, taking the blow of the defender’s sword on her own cutlass, the force of her leap driving them together so that for a moment their chests almost touched, the two swords pinned between them.

  They both shoved, breaking contact, Jules flinching as her back hit the railing of the other ship. She got her cutlass up in time to parry a swing at her, following up by leaning into her momentarily unguarded opponent, punching the guard of her cutlass into his jaw, hearing the sickening crunch of his jaw bone breaking, seeing him falling, ducking as movement out of the corner of her eye warned of another blade coming at her, stumbling, frantically parrying again as the new foe attacked, falling back against the rail once more, another parry, the woman fighting her reversing her blade to cut at Jules’ side.

  Knowing she couldn’t manage another parry, Jules dove sideways, the other’s blade slicing through the side of her loose shirt in a moment of heart-stopping fear. She rolled, getting back to her feet just as the other swung again. Jules caught the blow on her cutlass, the two of them swaying for a moment, swords locked together, each straining to overpower the other.

  Ang came off the bowsprit in a rush, hitting Jules’ opponent and knocking her to the deck. Jules stared about, frantically searching for more threats, but the deck of the other ship seemed filled with men and women she recognized from the Sun Queen and the noise of swords clashing was rapidly subsiding.

  “Yield!” Mak called again.

  The enraged voice of the other ship’s captain called back. “All right! We yield! You promised no killing!”

  A hand grasped her shoulder. Jules spun around, starting to raise her sword, seeing Ang glaring at her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demanded.

  “What? I had a way to board them. I thought everyone else would follow.”

  “Yeah, we followed you,” Ang said, his glare turning into a reluctant smile. “Good job, sister. They weren’t ready for someone coming over their bow. It threw off their entire defense. But you’re lucky you weren’t killed before more of us could get aboard.”

  Jules saw a man still lying on the deck, Healer Keli working on his face, and recognized the man she’d struck down. She knelt by him. “Is he going to be all right?” Jules asked Keli.

  Keli nodded his head in reply, keeping his eyes on his work. “He’ll be drinking his meals for a while, but it should heal all right.”

  A rough grip on her shoulder shoved Jules back and away from the man, so that she sprawled in a sitting position, staring up in surprise at the woman she’d clashed swords with.

  “Get away from him!” the woman snarled.

  “I just wanted to see if he’d be all right,” Jules said, momentarily bewildered.

  “I’ve seen those kind of fighting moves before and I know where you learned them!” the other woman said, her face an angry mask. “Legion stray! Have you already worked your way through all the men on that ship so you’re trying to get a taste of someone new?”

  Jules felt a restraining hand on her arm and only then realized that she was on her feet again, her cutlass blade raised toward the woman.

  “Get her out of here!” Liv yelled, relaxing her grip on Jules’ arm. Several men from the Queen moved forward, shoving the woman roughly back into the group of sullen defenders. “Sorry,” Liv muttered to Jules. “Other women are the worst. Most men’ll hesitate to say it to your face, but other women will just come out with it.”

  Jules tried to get her racing heart and her anger under control. “If she says that to me again I’ll hurt her,” she said, hearing the rage in her voice.

  “You’ll have to wait in line,” Ang assured her. “Why don’t you get back to the Queen?”

  “No! I can handle this.” Jules glared at the group of prisoners. “I can handle anything.” For a brief moment she felt like shouting at them, telling them what she knew. A daughter of my line will overthrow the Great Guilds! My line! None of you think I’m good enough because I grew up in a legion orphan home but it’s my blood that will free this world some day!

  But that would be a crazy thing to do.

  Jules turned away from the prisoners, looking at Mak as he called out orders to some of his crew to search the ship. “Find out what they’ve got. Look for hidden compartments. You know the game.” Focusing on Jules, he waved her over. “Jeri, you probably saved us a few nasty injuries by coming over their bow like that. You’ll get an extra share for it.”

  The nearest sailors from the Sun Queen made noises of approval, shoving Jules to show their agreement with Mak.

  Feeling oddly tired, Jules went to the rail, looking across at the Sun Queen. The two ships were drifting, locked together by numerous lines, the winds still bearing both east. She was startled to realize that the last portion of the sun’s disc was still barely visible above the horizon, its red rays painting the sails above her in the color of blood.

  She would have killed that woman, Jules realized. Killed her before she’d even realized she was doing it. Where had that come from? Anger at insults because of her background was a familiar presence, but she’d long since learned to let such words roll off of her back. This time, though, the contemptuous words had pierced her as easily as if they’d been the blade of that woman’s cutlass.

  Jules looked about her, seeing mostly crew from the Queen. Men and women who had accepted her as she was, who hadn’t cared about her past. It had been very easy to grow used to that in just a short time, to let her defenses down so that verbal blows could get through.

  But there was something else different, too. Something inside her, Jules realized. The prophecy had changed how she saw herself. Had made it harder for her to ignore insults and slurs. Because now she knew she was more than could be seen by those who looked down on her.

  She knew that, didn’t she?

  Or was she worried that the prophecy had confirmed that she as a person didn’t matter and every effort she put into making more of herself didn’t matter? That it was only her ability to found a blood line, to have one or more children, that made her matter? Did her anger grow from new confidence in who she was, or fear that the prophecy had declared that who she was meant nothing?

  She searched her inner feelings and couldn’t find any clear answers.

  Was that an answer in itself? That she couldn’t tell? Because how could greater confidence in who she was make her more easily stung by insults?

  Lanterns were being lit and hung from yardarms to illuminate the deck. Jules tried to find something to do, something to distract her from her thoughts.

  “Hey, Jeri, help us search!”

  She joined that small group gratefully. One of them.

  Down below decks it was even darker, the lanterns two of the group carried not offering enough light. The leader of Jules’ group, a man named Gord, paused when they reached a stout door with a heavy iron lock on it. “This looks interesting. I’ve got the keys from the captain of this ship. Let’s see if one fits.”

  One key did, the lock opening so they could pull it off the hasp and push open the door, lanterns raised to see inside the closet-sized strong room.

  A man wearing a shirt, pants, and boots sat on the floor, blinking in the light from the lanterns. The room was otherwise empty but for a bucket serving as a chamber pot. He had the unshaven look of a man denied access to a blade for at least a week, and the rumpled, worn appearance of someone confined in a small space for the same period of time. But even in the uncertain light of the lanterns the quality of the clothing was easy to see. His shirt was fine linen, not rough wool, his pants tough but well made, and his boots new enough to have few signs of use.

  “A prisoner,” Gord said. “And not a member of the crew, from the clothing you wear. Who are you?”

  The man squinted at them, apparently u
nimpressed by what he saw. “None of your business.”

  “Oh? And why are you locked up here? Is that our business?”

  The prisoner smiled slightly. “I talk too much. That’s my crime.”

  “Jeri,” Gord said. “Go up to Mak and see if the captain of this ship can tell us anything about this guy.”

  Jules ran up the ladder to the main deck, pausing only to glower menacingly toward the other prisoners before finding Mak.

  “A prisoner down below?” Mak turned to the captain. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know,” the other said. “I got paid good money to take him to Sandurin, no questions asked.”

  “Who’s supposed to collect him in Sandurin?”

  The other captain hesitated before answering.

  “Let’s not make this too hard,” Mak added.

  “Mechanics,” the other captain admitted. “That’s all I know.”

  Ang had been listening. “Maybe the Mechanics would pay us to get that guy back. Or maybe he’s an enemy of the Mechanics who we should free.”

  “I think he is a Mechanic,” Jules said, realizing something. “He’s not wearing the jacket, but he’s got that attitude. Even as a prisoner.”

  “If he is,” Ang said, “we should tie something heavy around his neck and toss him into the sea.”

  “We might do that,” Mak said. “After we find out how much he might be worth to us.”

  “You don’t want to risk being targeted by the Great Guilds,” the other captain warned.

  Jules started laughing. The man stared at her, but she couldn’t stop. “No,” Jules said sarcastically. “That’d be awful, to have the Great Guilds after you!” She headed back below deck, still laughing, hoping it didn’t sound like the mirth of a crazy woman. Because her dilemma wasn’t exactly a laughing matter. But maybe laughing was a better outlet for the stress inside her than screaming, which she had felt like doing when the full weight of the prophecy came to rest on her mind.

  “Mak wants him on deck,” Jules said when she reached the others again. “He’s someone the Mechanics wanted delivered to Sandurin.” She watched the prisoner get up and walk to the door to the strong room, seeing enough of a familiar swagger to confirm her suspicions. “Yeah. He’s a Mechanic, too.”

  The attitudes of her fellow sailors toward the captive immediately shifted from wary helpfulness to shoving-along hostility. Jules felt a small twinge of guilt as Gord delivered an especially hard push, but only a small twinge. She’d been shoved aside enough times by Mechanics to have no sympathy for them.

  On deck, Mak was examining a small chest whose contents glittered in the lantern light. “Gems and crystals from mines near Altis,” he announced. “We’ll also take four barrels of the smoked fish. And your prisoner, and half the contents of your money chest. You can keep the rest.”

  The captain of the captured ship glowered at Mak. “How generous.”

  “Be glad you got to keep the ship,” Mak said. “Say hello to the Emperor for us. And your Mechanic friends, too. Let them know we’ll be contacting them about our prize.”

  “Which ship should I tell them to look for?” the other captain asked.

  Mak grinned. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? If they ask, tell them it was the ship Mara’s Mirror that took your prisoner.”

  Nearby sailors who’d overheard the conversation laughed. The mirror of Mara was a legend in the Empire, something with supposed magical powers that no one had ever been able to find.

  Tackle was quickly rigged from a yardarm to lift and swing the barrels of smoked fish over to the Queen. Jules, who’d already grown a little weary of potatoes, onions, and salt pork, expected that she’d soon be even more tired of smoked fish. As she prepared to climb over the rails to return to the Sun Queen, she hesitated, thinking she ought to go back and punch out that woman.

  But Liv put a firm hand on her arm again, urging her to the Sun Queen. “I know what you want to do, because I’ve wanted to do it. You’d feel better for a very short time afterwards,” Liv warned, “and then you’d hate yourself for a long time. There’s no satisfaction to be found in hurting those who can’t defend themselves.”

  “What if I gave her back her sword and then punched her out?” Jules asked.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Liv shook her head. “They’ve surrendered. The Sun Queen and her crew would look bad if you did that, provoking another fight just so you could beat up someone.”

  “But-”

  “Captain Mak would also look bad.”

  “Oh. I wouldn’t want that. Thanks for the good advice, sister,” Jules said, climbing over the rail and back onto the deck of the Sun Queen.

  The lines were let go and the ships veered apart. Jules stood watching the lanterns hung on the other ship dwindle like a receding flock of fireflies.

  “Congratulations,” Ang said, handing her something.

  Jules looked down at it. “A sailor’s knife?”

  “It’s traditional, after your first act of piracy,” he explained. Ang turned, watching the Mechanic prisoner be hustled below. “I’d still like to tie a large stone to him and toss him over the side.”

  “If it was a small stone,” Liv said, “he might struggle for a while before he sank.”

  Ang’s face lit. “Good idea.”

  “I wonder what he did to cause his fellow Mechanics to arrest him?” Liv said. “He’s not saying. Hey. Got another idea.”

  “Stand by for trouble,” Ang murmured.

  “This is another good idea. That guy’s not talking. The captain gave orders to take him down to the safe hold,” Liv said. “He’ll be chained to the bulkhead down there. But we can assign a guard.”

  “A guard?”

  “Yeah. A guard that a guy like that might talk to.” Liv looked at Jules. “What do you say, Jeri? Want to see if he’ll spill his guts to impress a young lady?”

  “Me?” Jules asked. “You think he’d talk to me?”

  Ang nodded, eyeing Jules. “Yeah. Good one, Liv. He’ll want to impress you, Jeri. You’re the right age and everything for him to want to make you think he’s everything wonderful with a big hunk of chocolate on top. Want to try?”

  “Guys can be stupid,” Jules said. “I know. Especially if encouraged. But he’s a Mechanic.”

  “Yeah. A male Mechanic. It’d be a service to the ship if you tried.”

  * * *

  Which was how Jules found herself with a cutlass once again in hand, sitting across the safe hold from the prisoner, who was now chained to the opposite bulkhead, a little more than a lance from her. The chains wouldn’t let the Mechanic move more than half a lance, so she was perfectly safe, but Jules kept the cutlass on her lap anyway.

  The prisoner sat, pretending not to look at her. He said nothing, the only sounds the creaking of wood, , the faint murmur of water alongside the hull, and occasional sounds of feet overhead or voices raised in loud banter.

  She’d been encouraged to strike up a conversation, but while Jules had spoken to many boys and men in her life, they’d all been commons. She had no idea what to talk to a Mechanic about. And it was hot down here in the unventilated space, making the environment both emotionally and physically uncomfortable. Finally Jules unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, spreading the opening a bit to get some relief from the heat.

  The Mechanic looked over at her, his gaze obviously directed below her face.

  Oh, blazes. In that much at least Mechanic males were the same as other men.

  “At least they gave me a guard who’s pleasant to look at,” the Mechanic said.

  “Um…thank you,” Jules said, instead of how she’d usually reply to something like that. She forced herself to say more. “I’m…Jeri. Of Landfall.”

  “Sir Mechanic Karl of Altis,” the Mechanic said. “You can call me Karl,” he added, smiling at her upper chest.

  Oh blazes, oh blazes. She was going to kill Liv for suggesting this. “Hi…Karl.”
>
  “I suppose that you know you’re very attractive.”

  “I know that guys usually tell me that when they’re drunk,” Jules said. She sought for something else to talk about. In her experience, asking a man to talk about himself usually got results. “How did a Mechanic end up a prisoner?”

  “That’s not important,” Karl said, looking away.

  “It’s not? Because…I think it’s interesting.”

  “Is it?” He looked back at her, flashing another smile. “I told you earlier. I talk too much. I talked about what I thought were flaws in the way the Mechanics Guild did things. I talked about how things should be done differently. I said these things to friends.” The smile turned hard. “One of them wasn’t. I got turned in, and arrested for disloyalty to the Guild.”

  That did sound interesting. Jules tried to look intrigued. “Things? What things?”

  “I shouldn’t talk about it,” Karl said, waving off the question, the chain on that arm clanking. “And it’s probably a bit beyond your grasp.”

  She managed not to glare at him. Jules tried changing her expression to fascination. “Why? I’d…really…like for you to…explain it to me.”

  Karl’s eyes rose from her chest and he gave her an appraising look, followed by a bigger smile as he apparently reached a decision. “All right. I think the Guild is making a mistake allowing commons to set up new cities outside the already-settled areas. Some Mechanics think it’s a good idea to establish new centers of power that we can play against the Empire to keep it in check. I think we just need to apply the old tried-and-true approaches that have kept the Emperor answering the Guild’s orders. There’s too much change going on, and no one can predict how that might shake out.”

  Jules nodded, trying to keep her exaggerated look of fascination going. “You seem to understand things better than the others.”

  “That’s very sharp of you to see that,” Karl said. “Some Mechanics say we should permit the new cities because the Mages are moving into them, and we can’t have another… I mean, open conflict with the Mages wouldn’t serve our interests. But the Mages shouldn’t be allowed to act as if they’re our equals. Did you know the commons call the Mechanics Guild and the Mage Guild the Great Guilds, as if we were on the same level?”